


I Am the Man Who Grades the Sun

by tatecorrigan



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, more like fictionalized accounts of things I've done in the past week, this is barely fiction tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5746120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatecorrigan/pseuds/tatecorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graduate school AU. Never have smart people fought so hard for so little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A soft knock at the door caused Nux to turn from his dual-screen setup, the knot between his shoulders pulling tightly. He really needed to start working on his posture. One of the other grad students, maybe it was Toast, had MacGyvered a standing desk in her office out of a milk crate and a lab stool she’d gotten from the university surplus sale last semester. Sitting as much as he did was supposed to take years off your life, wasn’t it? Maybe he should look into that. 

A halo of frizzy red hair surrounded Capable’s face, purple shadows under her eyes betraying her exhaustion. Judging by the state of her clothes–the sweatshirt she was wearing had long ago given up its sleeve cuffs–she hadn’t had a chance to do laundry recently, either. “Hey,“ Nux greeted. “How’s it going?” 

Tiredly she leaned her head against the door frame, face scrunching up as she made a wordless whining sound. 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Furi wants me to collect more data on the facial recognition study,” she moaned. “It’s taken me four months to collect seventy-two participants!”

Nux furrowed his brow. “How many more does she want you to collect?”  

“The plan was a hundred, and she says double it. Another hundred. It’s gonna take forrrreeeeeveeerrr! Just shoot me already,” Capable mimed a gun pointed at her own head, theatrically pulling the trigger and slumping back against the door frame. 

Nux grimaced and nodded sympathetically, glancing at the two screens on his desk full of spreadsheets. His data analysis was behind schedule, he really should have gotten these results to Max last week. Granted, his advisor was overwhelmed enough with his own projects that he probably hadn’t missed the latest draft of Nux’s dissertation yet. But with his tendency to walk around the building at odd times to check up on his advisees, Nux could be taken to task at any time. Better to get ahead of that storm, if he could.

Not that Max would _yell,_ or anything. He’d just smile, arms crossed over his chest, and offer a quiet, “okay, well…let’s get that finished soon, yeah?”

And every time Nux felt like such a mediocre disappointment. He kind of wished Max would get angry, just once, so his delayed progress would at least feel like it mattered.

“You wanna get coffee?” Capable continued. “Or lunch, I don’t think I’ve eaten anything solid yet toda–ow!” 

Her recollection was interrupted by an alligator clip smacking her in the shoulder, then falling to the stained carpet. “Slit, what the hell!” She called over her shoulder. 

A snicker came from the open door of the office across the hall. Nux leaned to see around Capable’s form. Slit was kicked back, his feet propped up in an empty office chair. A large rubber band had been wound between his thumb and forefinger, and he was loading up another alligator clip in the makeshift slingshot. He took aim, squinting dramatically. “‘m declaring war!” he cried, as another clip hurtled across the hallway and landed harmlessly at Nux’s feet. 

“Dude, stop, you’re gonna hit a student or something.”

“Little shits deserve it,” Slit griped. “I’ve gotten twenty emails today about the exam tomorrow, _‘uhhh_ _what’s on the exam? how long is the exam? what do I need to know for the exam?’_   I’m like,  _‘come to class once in a while and maybe you’d know already!’_ Joe just keeps forwarding them to me, too, doesn’t wanna deal with ‘em.” 

He kicked off from the chair he had been using as a footrest. “You guys eaten yet? Down for tacos?”  Tacos were half-price at lunchtime at his favorite campus bar and grill, perfect for stretching the meager pay the graduate students received for their teaching assistant work. 

“I packed today,” Nux shrugged apologetically. Glancing up, he saw Capable’s widened eyes, _don’t make me go to lunch with him alone!_ “…but I’ll just stick it in the fridge and come with,” he amended, grabbing his jacket.


	2. Chapter 2

“You guys get your spring assignments yet?” Capable asked, tucking her chin down into her scarf to keep her face warm. “They’re supposed to come out this week.”

Nux nodded. “Teaching two sections of the research methods class.” He’d been pleased by the assignment, though not surprised. He always got high evaluations at the end of the semester. Students just seemed to like his enthusiasm, even when the material was something as dull as introductory statistics.

Slit scuffed his boot on a bank of melting snow. “TAing for Joe again. I _hate_ the big intro courses,” he complained. The introductory-level classes frequently enrolled over five hundred students, and Slit had quickly become frustrated with the barrage of paperwork and questions. “Wish they’d let me teach again,” he grumbled. 

Nux said nothing. The possibility of Slit ever being allowed to teach again was slim after the evaluations he’d gotten back the first couple of semesters. Students had found him confusing and rude; _‘he’s clearly very smart but he doesn’t seem interested in helping us understand the material,’_ had read one terse student comment. 

The last straw had been his comments on a student paper: _What the fuck_ , he’d scrawled across someone’s research report, in bright red ink. 

“I’m TAing again, for Furi. She requested me this time, said she liked working with me last term.” Capable made a pleased noise. “She even said she’ll write me a letter of recommendation, once I’m on the job market!” 

Nux smiled, but a twinge of anxiety pinged in his brain. Was he going to need letters of recommendation once he started applying for jobs? Max hadn’t said anything about that when they’d discussed Nux’s career goals a few months before. It was going to be hard enough to even find positions to apply for; there had been plenty of job openings last year for positions in his specialization, but now when he needed them, the jobs were few and far between. 

In retrospect, he should have picked a subject area that had more industry application, like Slit had. Slit had shrewdly decided in their first year to focus his research on media violence, and in working with his advisor he’d already landed a handful of publications and even press interviews, each adding a line to his CV that made him a formidable job candidate. There was no doubt in Nux’s mind that Slit would have his pick of jobs when the time came. 

“Fuck that noise,” Slit grumped, holding the door to the bar for Nux and Capable. “I’m going industry after I get out, I’m tired of being broke!” 

Capable nudged Nux playfully, nodding to Slit. “I guess drinks are on him, then,” she teased. 

“Hell yeah, I’m buyin’, once I make my first million!” Slit grinned as he looked over a menu. “Did I tell ya I’m applying for a job with a military contractor? Virtual training evaluations or something,” he explained as a bored-looking waitress arrived to take their orders. 

 

“I just hope I can find a tenure-track position, you know?” Capable continued, as the waitress went to put in their taco orders. “I don’t wanna end up an adjunct,” she sighed. 

Nux shook his head. “Don’t adjunct, you’re better than that. You’re worth more than that,” he said earnestly. 

“It’s ridiculous! I was just reading the other day that more and more adjuncts are ending up on food stamps because the pay is so low. Food stamps! With _three_ degrees!” 

“Don’t like it, vote with your feet,” Slit commented. “Nobody’s making you work a shitty position. We gotta stop taking crap jobs if we want the schools to pay us any better.”

“Schools still need instructors, though,” Nux argued. “There’s always gonna be some kid fresh out of grad school who’s desperate enough and they’ll take the job. Adjuncts are gonna need student support if they’re going to make any real change.” 

Their tacos arrived at that moment, steam rising and carrying the smell of grilled steak and chicken. Slit squeezed a wedge of lime over his before smothering them with hot sauce. The three were silent for a minute as they began to eat, Slit moaning appreciatively, dropping shredded chicken and lettuce onto the bar.

“Do you think a taco counts as a sandwich?” Slit pondered. 

“No,” Capable responded.

“Yes,” answered Nux.

“Define ‘sandwich,’” Capable amended. 

“You want me to operationalize ‘sandwich’?” 

“Yeah, I mean. You’ve got to define what qualifies as a sandwich before you can decide if a taco counts.” 

“Okay. Um,” Nux paused to take another bite out of his chorizo and egg taco. “A sandwich is any food item that consists of meat, cheese, or other food, placed between pieces of bread.” 

“Bread-like products,” Slit suggested. “Corn tortilla isn’t really bread, is it.” 

“Bread-like products,” Nux agreed. 

“Well then a taco isn’t a sandwich,” Capable challenged, then explained when she saw the furrow in Nux’s brow. “A taco’s got all the stuff inside a tortilla, right? But that’s just one thing, the tortilla’s just one thing folded over. It’s not really ‘between’ the tortilla and anything, except maybe between the tortilla and itself.” She shrugged.

Nux picked at the bits of tomato and chorizo he’d dropped on his plate. “Well what about a gyro? That’s not a sandwich, either, then. Because you just stuff it inside the pita bread.” 

“Every culture has their version of the same thing,” Slit offered. “Greeks got gyros. Mexicans got tacos. Chinese got dumplings-” 

“That’s not the same,” Capable interrupted. “A dumpling isn’t comparable to a sandwich.” 

“How is it any different from a gyro?? You put stuff inside bread—okay, something dough-like, how is it different?” 

“Well, for starters, the Mexican version of a dumpling would be an empanada,” Capable said matter-of-factly. “And the Italian version is a ravioli, or a Polish pierogi, or an English pasty. And none of those are sandwiches.” 

Slit threw cash down on the bar, agitated. “What about a calzone, then? Is that a sandwich or a dumpling?” 

“That’s a pizza folded over.” 

“So is a pizza just an open-faced sandwich?” He countered, grinning. Nux was watching with a bemused smile; he knew how much Slit liked to argue just for its own sake. 

Capable shrugged and gave Slit a patient smile. “Further data needed,” she conceded, hopping off her bar stool. “C’mon, I gotta get back before my office hours, I’m expecting a student.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have literally gotten into a heated, raised-voices argument with another graduate student about whether a calzone qualifies as a sandwich.


End file.
